‘I can’t tell you the times I’ve wished for a gun to point at Hilary’s head. The pair then descended Saffron-hill, threaded Field-lane, and, entering Holborn, passed over the little bridge which then crossed the muddy waters of Fleet-ditch, mounted Snow-hill, and soon drew in the bridle before Jonathan Wild's door. The turning of the key startled her, but she did not see how she could make an objection. He had only been prevented, indeed, by a fear of Mrs. I thought he was in Newgate. But after that it was easy.
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